


The Knight's Decision

by rayblaze



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayblaze/pseuds/rayblaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Russian and German Empires have long been at each other's throats, clutching as much of the land that lies between them as they can.<br/>A younger generation attempts to put a stop to the bloodshed - though one could doubt how well two pretentious young princes who hate each other with a burning passion could set about a peace treaty without slitting each other's throats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Ultimatum

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to ff.net. An RP between a friend and I, the spaces between characters may be a little blocky, and the writing is a tad old; the RP was dropped. Will either be picked up again or continued independently.  
> Rating to change.

Ivan glared forcefully at the bearded man reclining against the shimmering throne. "I do not believe war is necessary, father," he said coldly. "The Germans would be more than willing to negotiate."    
"Nonsense," the king's voice boomed and echoed throughout the empty audience room as he adjusted his sweeping red robes. "I will not strike deals with barbarians. Give them a little taste of the land they could have, and they'll want all of it."  
  
A dark scowl crossed Ivan's face. "But father," he protested.   
  
"No buts!" Winter's powerful command cut off the younger blonde.   
  
Quiet for but a few moments, Ivan thought quickly. "But wouldn't you rather avoid war?" he began to speak quickly, taking care to not stumble over his words. "Men and money and resources lost. Surely a small piece of land is worth not sacrificing all of that?"   
  
Winter stroked his greying beard, tapping his foot against the side of his chair in thought. Ivan winced at the metallic pinging noises reverberating through the room, but did not protest.   
  
"Very well," the king concluded. "If you are so eager for peace, then you may banter about with the Germans." He curled his lip in distaste.   
  
Sweeping a deep bow, Ivan resisted a grin at his small victory, keeping a polite poker face.  
  
 "But," it seemed Winter was not finished, for a cruel, knowing smile spread across his cold-cracked lips, "You must negotiate with the elder prince. Not the king. The both of you need to learn responsibility."   
  
Ivan paled and whispered his next words. "....The one who used to try to shove books up my nose?" His fingers drifted to the bridge of his nose as he spoke, unconsciously cupping his hand over it as he remembered certain childhood years, spent playing under the war room table with foreign delegation's sons.  "Yes, him." Winter cackled menacingly. "Good luck with your...negotiations."  
 Ivan bowed mechanically at the waist again and swiftly exited, white as a sheet as he cursed his terrible, terrible luck.  
  
*  
  
Gilbert started his day like any other; dressing in flamboyant but not-particularly fashionable clothing, groping a young maid, eating a fancy breakfast cooked by the most talented chefs, groping another young, pretty looking maid, then, taking his bow and arrow, ran away from his princely duties, taking a trusty horse and his beloved canary with him.  
  
 It wasn't unusual for the great ruler of the Germanic states to summon Gilbert after his daily routine of running out, so Gilbert was not fazed at the slightest when a servant informed him that his father had asked for him. Strolling grandly into his father's chamber, where he usually received his scoldings, the albino prince flashed the king his signature grin as he closed the door.    
  
"You called for me, Father?" He asked lightly, as how the conversation usually went in this room. However, something was different that day, the way his father was not holding a contained fury in his expression, how he was looking more concerned- Gilbert did not notice until the Germanic king opened his mouth.   
  
"Yes, I have. I wished to inform you that Prince Ivan from the North is coming today to discuss...our /matters/ with you." He said slowly, sighing deeply soon after. The prince stood still with a blank expression, trying to remember just who this 'Prince Ivan' was out of the many princes he knew. His blood-red eyes sparkled when he recalled his childhood memories soon after, smirking rather deviously.    
  
"Is he now? Well, I am questioning why he would rather speak to me rather than to you, Father, but I'll make sure he has a..../memorable/ time here." Gilbert chuckled, already entertained at the idea of torturing the big-nosed child he remembered. They exchanged a few more words, then Gilbert walked out of the room before his father remembered to scold him for going out again. Humming cheerfully, he slapped another poor servant-girl's bottom playfully as he made his way to the castle's entrance to greet the foreign prince.


	2. Chapter 1: Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Russian and German Empires have long been at each other's throats, clutching as much of the land that lies between them as they can.  
> A younger generation attempts to put a stop to the bloodshed - though one could doubt how well two pretentious young princes who hate each other with a burning passion could set about a peace treaty without slitting each other's throats.

Ivan winced as the saddle, yet again, rubbed his legs the wrong way. He knew if he were to remove his riding pants and look at his inner thighs, he would likely discover the beginnings of saddle sores. Having been given a small traveling party and only enough supplies to cover the duration of the trip, the journey had been quick, but somewhat rough.  The road had been thankfully devoid of bandits and the like, and since spring was finally merging into summer, the passes were clear. Ivan was never one to complain - out loud, that is -, but the conditions were most certainly not what he was accustomed to.

He sighed with relief as the outreaches of the German's capital city came into view. Sending a manservant off to ask for directions at a cottage visible in the near distance, Ivan rolled his neck on his shoulders, grimacing at the popping and cracking noises the came once he stretched. He was almost tempted to get off the horse and stretch his legs as well, but the manservant came running back with directions into the city. About half of an hour later, they had finally reached the city gates. 

Keeping a straight face, Ivan casually admired the intricacy of the gates and the large, sturdy walls around them. He noticed it was a series of gates, though, almost like a canal lock, but for land. If they did end up going to war, the citadel would be difficult to break. His pride refused to allow him to consider the fact that the protection around the castle here might possibly be as good as the reinforcements back home.

As they passed through the bustling marketplace, Ivan would not let go of his tension, sitting up, back erect as he kept his wits about him. Now matter how cheerful the place seemed, they were still enemies until a treaty was signed. Approaching the inner gates, Ivan narrowed his eyes and accepted, with a frustrated resignation, that he would have to get this over with.

The elder prince of the Germanic state yawned for what felt like the hundredth time (It was actually only his 23rd), waiting for the foreign prince of the North to arrive for what seemed like an hour (It was only 47 minutes). He twirled a small sheathed dagger in his hand with a bored expression, leaning against the inner castle walls and occasionally glancing at the busy workers outside the walls. He started tossing the dagger up in the air, thinking back to his earliest memory of the foreign visitor. All he could remember was chasing the poor boy around with a Bible in his hand -He had snuck out of his studies usually to bother the child- and he remembered shoving the book to his face because it was the easiest, and the funniest way to make him burst into tears like a little girl.

Snickering at the memory, Gilbert snatched the dagger in mid-air when he saw a pack of men on horses coming into the inner gates. Pocketing the weapon, Gilbert squinted to look closer at the prince. He widened his eyes as the man came closer, a bit startled at how different he looked from his memory. There was the same features- that big nose stood out- but he looked almost what Gilbert would call /handsome/ (Just almost, no one else was handsome to Gilbert other than himself). But he quickly recovered, clearing his throat and leaning away from the wall, standing straight as he greeted the foreign men.  

"Welcome, Prince Ivan of the North, and his companions!" Gilbert said in a clear, loud voice with a grin, stepping closer. "I am the Prince Gilbert the First, and I am here to greet you today." Gilbert gave Ivan, who's still on his horse, an almost a jeering look.

"You've grown much, Prince Ivan. I do hope books will not make you weep like a young girl again." Gilbert bit his lip to keep from snickering as he gave a mocking bow.

Ivan dismounted swiftly and with ease as if he had not been sitting on a horse for the better half of the day, pulling off a glove to offer a handshake.

"Gilbert," he said frostily. "A pleasure." The sarcasm in his voice was obvious to anyone with ears.

Towering over the other, Ivan allowed himself to stare. Though the prince's appearance was quite different from their last encounter, it seemed his personality had not changed much, if at all. Eyes traveling upwards over a muscular body in well-fitting clothing, Ivan's gaze rested on his face. His piercing red eyes had not been altered one bit, but his features had evolved from that of a young, round-faced child to a man's, strong jaw framed by a large, contemptuous smirk and a sculpted nose significantly smaller than Ivan’s. He was still somewhat annoyed that he had to speak German out of courtesy. He knew the language well enough, he simply preferred his own. Due to lack of his father's evidently not caring, it was up to him to do whatever it took to win over the arrogant prince's opinion and reach a compromise. 

"I'm sure you'll find I no longer cry as I did when I was a child," he intoned loftily. "Thankfully, my childish behaviour has not followed me into adulthood." He could not resist retorting to the earlier jibe, however, so he continued, muttering under his breath, "Though I'm not so sure the same can be said for you."

Gilbert's expression hardened, keeping the smirk frozen on his face as he reached out and shook Ivan's hand firmly, pretending he didn't hear the whispered words. 

"Oh that's just /grand/. It would have been quite a pain if you burst out in tears every few minutes during your stay." Gilbert replied in an airy tone before quickly pulling his hand back again and wiping his palm on his thigh discreetly.

Truly, Ivan had turned very much different. The small kid he remembered was now almost half a foot taller than himself- which was more insulting to Gilbert than he would like to admit. Taking a few steps back, Gilbert grinned widely again at all the men accompanying the foreign prince that he now decided he didn't like. The way the prince acted, as if he was /displeased/ at his awesome presence. His eyes lingered on Ivan before gesturing a man-servant over.

"This man here will show your companions where they shall stay for a while. My /dear/, respected Prince Ivan, I shall guide you to your separate chamber myself. Please, leave your horses and give your belongings to the servants, they will carry it with care." Gilbert finished, his words dripping with sarcasm and hate as he gave a not-so-respectful wave to Ivan, gesturing him to follow as he turned around back into the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossposted here, if anyone is interested; http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7423410/1/The_Knights_Decision


	3. Tension

Ivan noted the inconspicuous hand motion Gilbert had made and sneered openly.

"What, your hand too good for me, princess?" he muttered at a level he was positive the other could not hear. He almost regretted not spitting on his palm before they shook hands in simple, childish retaliation. Then again, spitting on one's hands was not a very princely thing to do. He shook his head, putting aside his contempt for the prince momentarily, remembering his "mission," here.

He kept his eyes on the bobbing white mane of hair, occasionally darting his eyes to either side of him to watch their progress within the castle, examining the decor as it slowly changed around them as they trod further into the castle.

He regretted having been separated from his servants; he knew all his belongings would be safely delivered to his quarters during his stay here, but one of them was carrying a hardened manuscript tube for travel, with a pre-recorded treaty inside. Not that he would ever admit to it, either, but it would have been comforting to have around him people he knew, people he trusted, whom he could speak to in his mother language. Here in the nearly empty corridors, alone with a foreign monarch-to-be, he felt so very alone.

All the while as he thought, he strode swiftly after Gilbert, burning a hole in the crown of his head with his intense gaze. The mop of ruffled hair head no interest for him whatsoever, but instead the person underneath it. Despite his distaste for Gilbert's attitude, before and now, Ivan was still determined to have the peace treaty signed, and mildly curious about the shorter man. Had he really not changed much? Did he still sneak out of his lessons? Did he have a place amongst his father's knights, and wield a sword well? Was he engaged, or betrothed? Ivan certainly hoped not for the latter; marriage was the way to a sure-fire allegiance, putting the Russian Empire at a possible disadvantage, unless his sister stopped trying to stab one of the princes of the Lithuanian-Polish Commonwealth. The French certainly had pull within his father's court, and they could not risk angering the Italian merchants, nor the nobles whom controlled the ports.

Ivan's gaze unintentionally drifted downwards as he became absorbed in his thoughts. The direction of his eyes moved back and forth like a pendulum as Gilbert's hips swayed to and fro with every step. He noted, with a slight hint of amusement, that the seat of Gilbert's pants were well worn in certain areas...as if the prince spent his free time sliding down the banisters on the large, curving staircases throughout the castle, like he himself did at home when no one was watching.

Having no idea about Ivan's eyes on him from behind, Gilbert kept on walking down the hallway, getting bored of the uncomfortable silence between them. He wasn't quite sure why the prince was here, he hadn't exactly been listening intensely when his father was explaining. However, He had no plan to be a perfect housekeeper to the visitor, no, not by a long shot.

Gilbert fiddled with his long sleeves, thinking of a way to start a civil conversation. He had to at least try to look like he was nice before crushing this man. He wondered if he should ask about the conditions of Ivan's country. If it was still as cold and snowy as he remembered. If his younger sister was still a freak.

The more he thought, the more tired he got, knowing there wasn't much to connect with. Of course, it was only natural, no one had exactly the best and amazing hobbies as he did. He did not exactly know, but he disliked this prince from the moment he saw him. It was obvious, because it was so amusing to make him get angry or cry. To see the recognition in Ivan's eyes when he saw him every time when he was little was satisfying. The fact that every time he got near, Ivan would always keep an eye on him to be cautious of what other kind of prank he would pull- it was a very fulfilling feeling. Gilbert remembered being upset when he could no longer see Ivan for a very long time. He figured now that if was because there was no one else to reflect his devilish delight towards.

He supposed no matter how much he hated this man, he was glad to see him again- only because he can go back to his childish days. He wondered how much Ivan might have changed, since it had been years since he last saw him. Did he still like the sweets he loved as a child? Would sunflowers still make him smile widely? Gilbert shook his head, trying to clear his mind from the thoughts. Why did he care anyways, it didn't matter. The Germanic prince turned a corner and stared out at the courtyard that opened out next to the hallway, bringing in the daylight.

A bright yellow canary that he had named Gilbird a few years ago was perched on a nearby branch, observing the two with shining eyes. He grinned at the bird before glancing at the empty field in the courtyard, remembering how he would practice his battling techniques, using his despised books as the poor victims -slashing them up and stabbing right through them with a joyful grin. Gilbert chuckled at the memory and slowed his steps, turning back to Ivan with a smile.

"You do know how to wield a sword well, yes?" He asked casually, tilting his head to feign innocence. It was a perfect way to greet this disliked guest, to humiliate him by beating his ass to the ground on the very first day here. Show him who's the better one amongst each other, because it didn't seem like Ivan knew.

"Of course I do," Ivan forewent rolling his eyes at the ridiculous question and stared out into the open courtyard instead. "What do you take me for?"

The open space itself was void of people, but there were plenty of worn, slashed-up practice dummies for any who would wish to train there. He was surrounded by an open walkway on which they were standing; and which they were not the only ones passing through.

A small group of loud men wearing battered leather jerkins and swords laying across their knees were sitting on a bench under the shade, appearing as if they were taking a break, they being most likely knights-in-training. Servants scuttled about the open corridor, the area bustling as everyone went about their business. It was certainly an audience enough. Ivan continued to look around. It was a perfect day, not a cloud in the sky. A rack of swords cast a scintillating reflection upon the ground where the sunlight hit them. A warm breeze stirred the loose dirt of the courtyard, lifting Ivan's hair and clothes away from his body. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the blooming plant life in the large ceramic pots that lined the walkways. It smelled like spring. Like flowers and sun showers and less layers of clothing, like happiness and picnics in the grass with your older sisters until your father called you back inside to beat you for skipping horse riding practice but it'd be worth it, because the sunflowers in the left out to the east of the castle would have been blooming, and- A small yellow bird chirped from the rafters, disrupting Ivan's thought process. He opened his eyes and blinked away his reminiscing, slowly turning his relaxed smile into a smirk.

"Why, would you like to find out?" he asked, almost coyly.

Gilbert scoffed at the confident looking smirk on Ivan's face. Just another reason to dislike him, he thought to himself. He was tempted to say he took Ivan as a big-nosed idiot that's just asking to get beaten, but instead he grinned at the taller man in the most pleasant way he could manage- which was not very much.

Gilbert stretched an arm out to the side, his bright yellow canary flying to his finger automatically before flying up again, sitting down on top of the albino prince's head like it was the most natural thing to do.

"Oh, I'm not saying I take you as a weaker type, not at all. But I do think it wouldn't be wise for you to go against me, Prince." Gilbert taunted, snickering to himself as he crossed his arms. Of course, at first glance, anyone would think Ivan would be much stronger than Gilbert. Anyone, but Gilbert himself.

"I trained myself with the older knights since I was young, and I am much talented than anyone in my age. Of course, you're a bit older than me..." He flashed him a prideful smirk before stepping closer, uncrossing his arms and putting a hand around Ivan's shoulder in almost a warm gesture. On Gilbert's head, the canary scooted itself to the side and pecked at Ivan's shoulder, sharing the hate felt by it's master.

"But it would be fun, yes? To see who would win? It's all just for fun and games, if you're willing, my dear guest, we could borrow the swords from one of the knights in training over there." Gilbert offered slyly, nodding his head to the direction of the men under the trees.

"Fair combat?" Ivan gestured to the open yard lazily with a flick of his wrist, shifting his shoulders enough to shake off the unwanted grip on his shoulder. "Whomever is effectively disarmed first loses, no blood drawing, no fighting dirty."

He watched the bird flit to Gilbert's head. "I have no doubt in your abilities, Prince Gilbert," he said as dryly as possible. "But I doubt you've had the experience fighting off invaders as I have had. There is a difference between playing with the big boy toys in your father's castle and going out to battle the real thing." He grimaced at the thoughts his words brought about.

He felt the peck and looked down, glaring at the bird. "Do that again and I'll turn you into a chicken pot pie, got it?" he muttered darkly.

Ivan looked back to Gilbert's face and tilted his head back to shake his hair out of his face.

"But of course," he replied airily. "Interesting." He straddled the barrier to the courtyard and swung his foot over, landing with a soft thump into the dirt. He turned around, placing his hands on his hips.

"Are you coming, or are you as chicken as that little birdie on your shoulder?" He grinned menacingly. "Come on princess, show me what you got."


End file.
